


Up Montana Way

by VarjoRuusu



Series: Fire 'round the Sun [2]
Category: Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid (1969)
Genre: ALL OF IT, ALL THE FLUFF, And then add some more, Feeling Fluff, First kiss fluff, Fluff, M/M, No other tags apply really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-13
Updated: 2020-09-13
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:08:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26449066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VarjoRuusu/pseuds/VarjoRuusu
Summary: A few weeks after Sundance was hurt, Butch has sorted everything out with that ranch he thought about. Now he just has to get Sundance there without letting it slip what's going on, because for once in his life he's going to have a surprise stay a surprise.
Relationships: Harry Longabaugh | Sundance Kid/Robert Parker | Butch Cassidy
Series: Fire 'round the Sun [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921543
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Up Montana Way

**Author's Note:**

> I'm going to assume that they both already had their 'holy shit' moment a long time ago and have long since come to terms with their individual and collective crap, thus have just sort of fallen into this insane fluffiness without the need for drama.
> 
> With that in mind, have fluff.

“Where the hell have you been?”

Butch turned, a grin on his face as he finished brushing his horse. Sundance was standing at the barn door, leaning on his right side, hands in his pockets.

“Nice to see you, too,” Butch said and Sundance rolled his eyes. 

“You said you'd be gone a week, it's been three. Started to think the law caught up with you.”

“Aw, Sundance, were you worried?” Butch grinned, walking over to the other man, saddlebag slung over his shoulder. Sundance stood straight and shoved Butch in the arm, irritated.

“You're a damned liability, Butch,” Sundance told him and Butch just chuckled.

“I had some stuff to do,” he said as they headed toward the house. He wasn't ready to tell Sundance what exactly that was, he wanted it to be a surprise, but the excitement was about to send him off dancing across the yard.

“Whatever you're hiding,” Sundance told him. “It had better not be any of the things going through my head.”

Butch snorted. He highly doubted Sundance would be able to guess what he'd been doing up in Montana, especially since Sundance thought he'd gone to Denver.

“I can say with almost total certainly that it is absolutely not any of the things going through your head, because everything going through your head involves me robbing something and getting us shot or blown up, and it ain't that,” Butch said with confidence.

Sundance looked him up and down and snorted, turning away. “Not the only thing I'm thinkin',” he muttered, too quiet for Butch to hear. “Come on, Etta cooked,” he said aloud, heading back to the house.

Etta had been both angry and relieved to find them hiding out in her house when she returned from Boston a few weeks before, and she'd taken over caring for Sundance's wound, though she grudgingly admitted that Butch had done a fine enough job of it on his own. Once Butch was sure Sundance wasn't going to slide back downhill, he made an excuse about tracking down the rest of the gang and seeing who escaped and took off. 

He'd headed north, instead of south, up into Montana, where he and Sundance weren't wanted, and no one questioned where he got the cash to buy a five hundred acre ranch and still have over three hundred dollars, a small fortune, to put in a legitimate bank account under his own, rarely used, name. There was plenty left to buy anything they needed, including horses, but he was going to let Sundance pick them. Butch didn't know anything about horses. He had then taken another week to clean up the house, which had seen better days, and stock the cupboards with supplies. He'd even met a few of the neighbours.

Satisfied for the moment, he headed back to Wyoming, hoping that by now Sundance was healed enough that he'd have no problem riding the distance.

Butch dropped the saddle bag when he entered the house, hugging Etta when she wrapped her arms around him, and they ate and talked about nothing until the sun went down. Watching them, Butch realised something had shifted, and sure enough, when it came time to sleep, Sundance trailed after him when he went to go bunk down in the barn.

“You have a spat?” Butch asked and Sundance shrugged and shook his head.

“Nah, no bad blood, we're just finished,” was all he said and Butch raised his eyebrows, but didn't push it.

The next couple of days Butch offered to help Etta with anything around the place that needed doing, fixed the roof where it was leaking over the kitchen, and did a number of other small things that had been left too long. She cornered him and demanded to know what he was up to, so he quietly let her in on the secret, enjoying her laughter and delight. Whatever words had passed between her and Sundance, he hadn't lied, there was no bad blood between them, and Butch was relieved.

When Butch went inside late in the afternoon, Sundance was sitting in Etta's rocker, a little leather ball in his hand as he concentrated on closing his fingers around it, wincing now and then when he tightened his grip.

“How's the arm?” Butch asked, getting himself a drink from the pitcher in the kitchen.

“It'll heal,” Sundance grimaced. “Hurts.”

“Hmm,” Butch said, walking over to stand by the rocker.

“What's on your mind?” Sundance asked absently, continuing to work the little ball around in his hand.

Butch was silent for a while, gazing out the window as the sun set.

“Just thinkin',” he said quietly and Sundance chuckled.

“It's what you're best at,” he nodded.

“Yeah,” Butch said testily. “No more laying dynamite, I'm no good at math.”

“You're just too enthusiastic,” Sundance grinned. Butch sighed.

“Sundance, I want you to pack up anything you'd want to have with you for a while. A few months at least, maybe a year,” he said, worried that Sundance was going to immediately ask questions and potentially ruin the whole thing. 

Sundance leaned back in his chair, watching Butch. He was nervous about something, and sure, Sundance was curious, but he guessed Butch had some kind of surprise in order, something big, and as much as Sundance wasn't a big fan of those, this time he had a feeling if he bided his time it would come out worth it.

“Where are we going?” he asked, keeping his smile to himself as Butch's shoulders sagged in relief that he'd asked the simplest question and nothing else.

“Montana.”

“So, what in the hell is in Montana?” Sundance asked the next day as they were loading up the pack horse with their few belongings. Etta had wished them a safe journey early that morning before she left for the school house, smiling quietly. Sundance had watched her go with suspicion written on his face.

“You'll see,” Butch grinned and Sundance scowled, then shrugged. He figured he'd get it out of Butch by the time they left the state, the man was terrible at keeping secrets. But for now Sundance kept his silence and mounted his horse, falling into step behind Butch as they headed out of town.

Butch talked as they travelled, he usually did, but as far as Sundance could tell he never came close to even dropping a hint about what was waiting in Montana. They weren't on the run at the moment so they traveled comfortably, not too many hours in the day and the horses got plenty of rest. It turned cold the second night they were camped out in the shelter of some rocks and without really thinking about it, Sundance lay the bedrolls out next to one another by the fire. 

Somehow they hadn't talked about when Sundance was laid low with a fever, or how they spent the better part of three days in bed while he recovered, most of the time completely naked. Nothing had happened, Sundance hadn't done much more than sleep and grumble when Butch tried to get water or broth down him, but ever since he'd felt like he was on a knife edge whenever Butch was around. He wasn't scared, really, or particularly uncertain about where they were going, anymore than he was in a hurry. They'd reached a sort of equilibrium he was loath to upset. When they bedded down for the night, he didn't think twice about draping his blanket over both of them and tugging Butch against his chest, holding him tight as they both dropped off to sleep. 

Over the next few days, Butch usually woke first, early in the morning as the first rays of light appeared in the east, but Sundance didn't like mornings, and so Butch lay quietly, allowing him to snore softly, head pillowed in the crook of Butch's shoulder, until the sun was well and truly up, before he extracted himself carefully to stoke the fire and make coffee. If for nothing else, Sundance would get out of bed for coffee.

They were around three days ride from the ranch when Butch suggested they take a steep trail down into the valley because it was a nice shortcut. Halfway down Sundance's horse spooked and bolted, galloping for a hundred yards before coming to a halt and rearing, dumping Sundance in the dirt before she took off again.

“Sundance!” Butch shouted, kicking his own horse into motion, half out of the saddle when he reached Sundance's side. 

“Hell and damnation,” Sundance was swearing as he sat up, reaching for his hat and brushing dirt off himself. Butch sagged to the ground next to him, reaching out to make sure he was in one piece.

“This is the last time I listen to you,” Sundance said, no real anger in his voice as he stood up with Butch's help.

Butch chuckled, tugging Sundance close with a hand on the back of his head and pressed a kiss to the side of his forehead, relieved that Sundance was no more than bruised.

“Hey,” Sundance said as Butch started to pull away. “C'mere.”

Kissing was the most natural thing in the world, like they'd been doing it their entire lives. Butch tilted his head as Sundance drew closer and wrapped both arms around his waist, holding on like Butch would disappear if he let go. Sundance's moustache tickled a little, but Butch found he liked the feeling, and he let his hand drift to Sundance's face and cup his jaw, softly pressing into the kiss. 

“Hey,” Butch whispered when they separated, lips hovering less than an inch apart. “Okay?”

“Yeah Butch,” Sundance breathed, face splitting into a wide grin. “I'm good.”

“Good.”

The second kiss was deeper, but still slow and languid. They were in no rush. Butch's hands moved of their own accord, reaching under Sundance's jacket and tugging it free from his pants until he could get a hand under it, splaying his fingers across Sundance's lower back, skin to skin. Sundance hummed, nipping at Butch's lip in retaliation because his hands were cold. Butch grinned, sighing when he drew back finally.

“We should catch that damned horse,” he said softly and Sundance laughed. 

“You catch her, coming this way was your idea,” he said and Butch rolled his eyes, putting up no real protest as he passed off the reins of the packhorse and took off after Sundance's wayward mare.

With the horse retrieved they continued on. Sundance grumbled about his new bruises for a few hours, chuckling every time Butch rolled his eyes, and after dinner Butch caught Sundance around the waist and pressed kisses along the back of his neck as a thank you for cooking. He also discovered that kissing Sundance was an even better way of getting him out of bed in the morning.

Next afternoon they stopped in the nearest town for fresh supplies before they headed out to the ranch, where Butch pulled up the horses twenty yards from the house.

“We're here,” he said, glancing sidelong at Sundance.

“So.” Sundance asked, looking around. “What is this?”

“This is our ranch,” Butch said, swinging down off his horse and leading her to the post where he tied her up with the pack horse. Sundance appeared at his side a moment later and hitched his own horse.

“You bought a ranch,” he deadpanned, staring around at the slightly dilapidated house, the corals, and the acres and acres of open land.

“I might have, yeah,” Butch said, tilting his hat back far enough to scratch his forehead a bit sheepishly.

“Why?” Sundance asked, turning to stare at Butch, incredulous.

Butch shifted, uncomfortable. No one said he'd actually have to talk about it. He supposed he should have expected Sundance to demand an explanation but somehow he thought he'd avoid it. He hadn't so far.

“Ok,” Butch said. “Cards on the table?”

“Always,” Sundance nodded.

“You scared me, Sundance, you could have died. And it would have been my fault, I would have good as killed you. And the way you said it, like it was a foregone conclusion that I was gonna get the both of us killed, it didn't sit right. I started thinking about things that actually matter, and realised that robbing trains ain't one of them. You are.”

He wasn't good at this. He wasn't good at this at all, he just knew it.

“But a ranch?” Sundance asked, taking a step closer.

“You told me about how much you like horses,” Butch said quietly. “And I realised that…if I'd lost you…I'd have been done. And I don't want to lose you, ever, but if we keep up the way we have, my dumb plans are gonna do just that. And I thought, you always wanted a horse ranch, and it's safe, in compared to robbin' trains anyway, and well, I just thought-”

Butch was cut off when Sundance closed the last space between them, taking Butch's face between his hands and kissing him solidly, trying to show Butch everything he was feeling that he knew he absolutely didn't have words for.

“Okay,” Butch said, trying to catch his breath when they parted.

“You're a fucking idiot,” Sundance told him.

“I love you too,” Butch scoffed and Sundance's eyes grew serious. 

“I do,” he said softly. “I do love you. So damned much, Butch.”

“My name's Robert, you know,” Butch said quietly. “Friends called me Bobby as a kid.”

Sundance smiled. “Harry. My name's Harry.”


End file.
